


teach me to the breathe again

by phantasizeit



Category: Phandom/The Fantastic Foursome (YouTube RPF)
Genre: Descriptions of Anxiety, Fluff, Kissing in the Rain, M/M, Reality, playful boys
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-12-07
Updated: 2017-12-07
Packaged: 2019-02-11 16:03:04
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,114
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/12938769
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/phantasizeit/pseuds/phantasizeit
Summary: Phil reflects on his anxiety while he observes the ocean on the Isle of Man with Dan. This quickly dissolves into playfully chasing each other in the rain.





	teach me to the breathe again

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you to p-hantasticpheels on tumblr for the prompt! <3

Phil always felt so calmed by the sea. With his everyday life, came anxiety. He had a special anxiety for when he had to go to a YouTube thing or other event, where there were hundreds of cameras, hundreds of prying fans taking note of every step and every breath, hundreds of coworkers sizing him up and deciding if he was worth the hype. This kind of anxiety settled hard and uncomfortable in the pit of his stomach. It made him want to hide in a corner. It made him want to grab Dan and use him as a buffer from all of the noise and eyes. And sometimes he did-- he’d gently and quickly touch Dan’s shoulder and Dan always knew what he meant:  _ too much, need space, need to breathe.  _ They’d slip off to some corner and Dan would position himself in front of Phil, providing him with a shield. They’d talk about something frivolous and forgettable until Phil felt like he could face the noise and the eyes again. 

Phil had a different kind of anxiety for when he had to do something one-on-one with a stranger. Making a call down to the front desk of a hotel, ordering drinks at Starbucks, meeting with some coordinator or director or administrator. This kind of anxiety crackled across his skin and caused his tongue to stick to the roof of his mouth. He’d usually sweat, he’d usually fumble his words. He’d usually worry after the fact, that he had messed it up somehow; Dan was there to assure him he was fine or-- on the rare occasion-- make the phone call or order the drinks himself. It wasn’t often that Phil felt anxious enough for Dan to do that.

Phil had a different kind of anxiety for when something went wrong. This was a panicky, frenzied kind of anxiety that often stirred up anger in him. It felt like hot, electric pulses that overwhelmed him. This anxiety was saved for when something didn’t go as planned, people that he trusted didn’t follow through on what they had promised, or he made a stupid, major mistake that he would beat himself up over for days. It was a kind of anxiety that Dan usually couldn’t help with; Phil just wanted space. This was Phil’s least favorite find of anxiety, not that any of them were fun. 

And then there was the anxiety that was kind of… always there. It pushed him to be productive, to be creative, to keep working and producing. It was helpful in that way. But it was also exhausting and always brought feelings of fear and self-doubt with it. Phil had found that he was able to combat this with optimism and positivity. And sometimes he even believed the things he said. 

By the ocean, anxiety drifted out of his body like the fog currently crawling across and caressing the gentle waves. The ebb and flow of the water against the rocky shore taught him how to breathe again.  _ In and out. Ebb and flow.  _ A pull of breath and water, a crash of exhale and tide. 

He and Dan had been busy. The different types of anxiety that Phil experienced been warring in his body for awhile. He was running out of energy, having to fight with his mind and body, while also trying to have a successful career. But he and Dan had come to the Isle of Man with the Phil’s family and Phil were finally getting the chance to breathe again-- the chance to be taught how to breathe again by the ocean. 

Softly, it began to rain. Dan stood in front of him, admiring the gray ocean. Whorls of frothy white churned the grey. Beyond the bright green of the craggy shore, waves blended with mist which blended with sky. It was easy to get lost in the endless grey, but Phil was busy watching Dan instead. The wind rhythmically tossed Dan’s curls about. First, droplets of rain simply settled on the wisps like tiny jewels, then the rain seeped and dampened Dan’s hair. His hands, long and pale, fiddled at the bottom string on his coat. He hopped from foot to foot every few seconds, trying to shake off the cold seeping into his toes. They were alone, which Phil also appreciated deeply. He had spent the majority of the year with Dan, but they were always surrounded by other people. The rain was picking up now, fatter droplets flattening their hair to their heads and trying to drive them back into the safety of the Lester’s vacation home.

Phil reached his hand out and grabbed Dan’s. Surprisingly, it was warm, despite the late January chill in the air. Phil felt a tiny smile tug at his lips; Dan was like a walking furnace. Always there to warm Phil. 

Dan yelped, “your hands at like fricken icicles!” and shook Phil’s hand off. And just like that, Phil introspective mood was shattered and he dodged forward to tuck his fingers underneath the collar of Dan’s coat, fingers connecting with a toasty neck: “Melt my icicles, Danny!”

This time, Dan shrieked, yanked his body away from Phil, and began to run. “Get away from me, or I’ll break your icicles off!” Phil just continued to chase Dan around the grassy plateau. They must have looked like a couple of children, dodging, lunging, slipping. Dan was definitely faster than Phil-- it didn’t help that the rain that was now hammering down around them was slicking the grass and causing Phil to slip around-- but Phil had more stamina. 

Water dripped down Phil’s soaking fringe into his eyes, but, through the blur, he spotted Dan panting with his hands on his knees. Phil came up from behind Dan and grabbed him in a backwards hug. Phil pushed his head into the crook of Dan’s neck, “gotcha!” Phil rocked Dan back and forth a few times and Dan groaned.

“You cheated.”

“You literally stopped running.”

“Hacks.”

“Yes Dan, I hacked real life.”  
  
“Knew it.” Dan spun around in Phil’s arms suddenly and pressed his lips to Phil’s in a quick, soft kiss. It tasted like rainwater. They giggled into each other’s lips. Both their lips were cold and Phil had to stop his teeth from chattering. But it was nice. Phil wasn’t thinking and worrying about what they had done or what they still needed to do. He was just thinking about how persistent Dan’s warmth was.

And then while they kissed, Phil snuck his hands up Dan’s coat and pressed to his hot, dry back. 

Phil would later insist that Dan’s answering scream echoed down across the ocean.


End file.
